#their lives their culture their everything

[itsswritten]

teeny tiny

Pairing: Fairy reader x Azriel

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Azriel practices dwindling with you. (Just some fluff, mutual pining, pre bond snapping)

Wings Universe - read more from this couple here.

Azriel was watching you intently, a soft smile spread on his lips as his gaze danced across your expression. You were so passionate when you spoke about your work– your duty as a fairy. 

A stark difference to how he felt about being an Illyrian.

But knowing you now for only a year, you had softened that perspective he had for his own heritage. Purely by how dedicated you were to yours, and how you lit up whenever you got to speak about it. Naturally, when getting to know the IC you had wanted to learn everything about the Illyrians, everything about the sisters, about Amren. Every finer detail.

That warm nature of yours, got even the most reserved opening themselves up to you. You were always genuinely interested too, mesmerised in the differences and similarities you found among your new friends. You would never scrimp on compliments either, lovely words rolling off your tongue in awe when Cassian had explained some Illyrian lore. You even went as far to admit that you’d always thought the dark winged fae looked very cool and fierce. 

Azriel could vividly remember the heat filling your cheeks one evening at Rita’s when you’d admitted that, the faerie wine offering you some liquid courage. The comment had gone straight to Cassian’s head, prancing round Rita’s flexing in front of Nesta with a stealthy look, posing for her. “Look how fierce I look, Nes,” Nesta only rolled her eyes.

Azriel, though, had kept that comment. Tucked it away in the corner of his mind that he saved purely for you. A space filled with compliments from you, mentions of the things you loved, or observations of when he thought you looked especially beautiful– which truly was everyday. That corner of his mind was slowly growing by the day, bit by bit consuming him more and more. But he didn’t mind. For every new area you occupied in his consciousness, it replaced something dark instead. Those nightmares became few and far between after you entered his life, and he felt lighter, brighter. 

A mark that could only be left by a radiant individual– you.

Ever since he’d met you, he was absolutely smitten. There was a magnetic charge between you both, that just couldn’t keep him away. He was like a moth to a light, fluttering so dangerously close that if he wasn’t careful he might just burn. 

But he couldn’t stop. Despite the risk of it all, the risk of you burning his desires down. The obvious rejection you would undoubtedly give him if his feelings ever became known. So he settled for friendship, in fact savoured in it. He welcomed the friendly banter and familiar touches you so kindly offered him, but sometimes he dared to imagine…selfishly letting himself wonder, if he was to confess, would it really all go up in flames?…or would a warm glow await him instead.

Azriel began to look for the good parts of his own culture, an excuse to be able to share something with you. Little anecdotes of younger years with his brothers, the plants that grew in the harsh terrain of Ramiel, and what creatures may lurk in those mountains. Something Azriel noticed had piqued your interest. 

He found you numerous times after that in the library with Nesta and Gwyn, looking through bestiaries and field journals. Your commitment to the land and its creatures never wavering. You had found old scriptures, thousands of years old, of rare creatures that roamed the Illyrian land. Feline-like beasts that apparently once lived among Illyrians as their companions, a familiar of sorts. You had practically barged into Azriel’s room one evening when you had unearthed this new information, kneeled on his bed sharing this new discovery word for word as you read the translated version Gwyn had given you. 

“We’ll have to go look for them Az,” You had beamed, “It’ll be like an adventure, and well I could write it off as work too seeing as technically this falls under my jurisdiction.” 

Azriel had never cared much for his own culture and myths, actually, had rather hated every aspect of it. But somehow, watching you find the beauty between the cracks changed something in him. Over time the dismal opinion he had of Illyrians and that part of himself, paired with the progression in the camps had made a slight difference.

Today though, today, you were sharing even more of your world.

“So I thought, you know with you already being able to winnow you would grasp this the easiest” you smiled at Az.

You had brought him to the edge of one of the night court meadows you usually worked at. Elain had asked to join you on a day's work for the spring season, once confessing she wished the cauldron had turned her into a fairy just like you. You had told her she was perfect the way she was, exactly who she was supposed to be, and promised her anyone of any kind was welcome in the meadows. 

What was supposed to be a fun girls day with Elain had quickly snowballed into a field trip, the rest of the inner circle adamant they had to come too. But if your friends couldn’t master the art of dwindling then they would not be permitted in the meadows. Rhys and Feyre were fine, that unlimited pot of power they both possessed actually meant you’d caught them several months ago, rolling around in a flower enjoying some quality time together. You’re not sure who was more embarrassed, yourself or Feyre when Rhys clumsily fell out of a flower bell stark naked covered in pollen.

Before the others would be allowed to cross the threshold of the meadows you would need to teach them first.

“Dwindling is a lot like winnowing, how you move yourself to a different space. Or even how your shadows move you through space. It’s essentially the same, but it’s the space within you that’s moving…well smaller.” 

Your hands had been spread wide in your explanation, bringing them closer together as if your movement were perfectly representing how it worked. Your brows furrowed though, as Azriel looked at you with a soft dazed expression. Almost glassy eyed with a dumb smile on his mouth.

“Are you even listening to me Az?” Your tone felt stern leaving your lips. A little huff following after, that got his shadows moving in a giddy manner. It wasn’t just Azriel that found you utterly adorable, but his shadows too had a hard time hiding how your expressions caused a stir in them.

How they basked in your laughter, grew agitated in your discomfort or selfishly, liked to relish in your charming pouts.

Azriel quickly shook his head, as if shaking himself from the daze you so often ensnared him in, “I’m always listening,” he promised.

You rolled your bottom lip through your teeth gently, pausing for a moment to take in his words. How it had struck a ripple through your body, that often created butterflies in your stomach. Glancing up through your lashes you took your friend in, his large strong frame towering over you, never in an intimidating way. No, his presence, however daunting to others, always filled you with safety and comfort you hadn’t felt around many. And there were those beautiful hazel eyes that often reminded you of the sunrise after you’d worked the night shift. Golden rays breaking through the midnight blanket, spilling hazel threads into petals of blue.

Maybe one day you would tell him how when the sky filled with ribbons of gold and sapphire, that you only thought of him.

Quickly you stopped yourself from falling into your own daze, remembering his passing words. 

I’m always listening. 

That he was. So attentive, so kind, you’re not sure what you did to deserve the friendship of the Shadowsinger. You continued on, brushing over how genuine his words sounded. Rummaging around in your bag you pulled out a pouch of fairy dust.

“This amplifies your power, makes it easier to shrink. Should also help with the nausea,” you muttered, now choosing to ignore the way his eyes seemed to drink you up.

It was getting increasingly hard to disregard the effect the Shadowsinger had on you. He was so beautiful, so pretty– in that rugged Illyrian way. And he was very thoughtful too, and there was the way he said things to you sometimes that made it hard not to assume it meant more. Every word felt like a whispered kiss or unspoken promise, that you found yourself at times hoping, and daydreaming that perhaps it did mean something deeper.

Sprinkling the dust over Azriel, his nose scrunched a little at the scent. So familiar, he realised it reminded him of you. That lingering scent of fairy dust was always on you, mixed with vanilla and hints of honey, an underlying breeze of peonies. Your scent alone was enough to enchant him, enough to know he would be dreaming of you again tonight. His consciousness would slip him into a blissful haze of what it would be like to envelope himself in the crook of your neck and laze in your aroma.

Gently you took his hands into yours, his ragged hands engulfing your own. 

Azriel couldn’t help notice the stark contrast. How perfect and soft you were, delicate and light. He was rough and weathered around the edges, hardened by war and conflict. A gentle squeeze from you pulled him from his thoughts, realising how close you were now, he would only have to lean down slightly to bridge the gap between you. So close he could press his lips to top of your head and–

As if brushing that thought from his mind, his shadows moved towards you. Brushing a strand of hair from your face, while the other tendrils wove through the air in between you both like a dance.

“Are you ready Az? Remember everything I taught you?”

He nodded. 

Channelling his power in the technique you had shown him, his eyes fluttered shut. Honing in on the warmth of your hands and the faint sound of the breeze. His siphons simmered a glow as vibrations of power and space moved over the sharp lines and angles of his body, retracting and restricting the space within.

The air sounded different all of a sudden.

Vibrations growing louder, rustles becoming more powerful. Slowly Azriel opened his eyes, looking down at you, standing as you were before. He questioned if he’d even managed to do it, but as he glanced up he saw the tall green vertebrae of the grass tower above. The strands gently swaying in the wind, allowing the morning sun to filter through and cast viridescent shadows across the earth.

He had done it. He had dwindled.

The air was filled with a symphony of sounds, the song of crickets and the gentle rustling of the grass in the wind. Butterflies flitted by, leaving a gentle gust of wind in their wake. They were larger than him now, and he could vividly see the intricate designs and colours that lay on their wings.

“Az? Azriel are you okay? How do you feel?”

He hadn’t even realised you were talking, not until your hand gently pressed against the side of his face. Your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, as you looked up to him in concern.

“I feel fine,” he replied, finally remembering to take a breath as your touch left him.

“No nausea? You looked a little peaky for a moment, I was worried,”

Your remaining hand had slipped from his gentle grip, a simmer in his chest wishing it would remain. But Azriel unfurled his wings, stretching the dark membranes out, distributing his weight onto either feet to check his balance. 

“Okay…” You smiled then, “This went better than I thought, you know it’s Cassian I’m most worried about. I just have a feeling he’ll sneeze himself into a giant or something,”

“Wait, is that possible?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so. But somehow I could see it happening with Cass,” You laughed. The angelic waves of your laughter pulled up the corners of his lips as he let out a chuckle.

Oh Azriel could stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you, no one else in sight for miles.The sun basking it’s glow upon you both. Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence before you closed your eyes, head tilting up towards the sun as the rays washed over your face. 

Azriel thanked the Mother again for the blessings he had received since knowing you, because this moment right here– to be with you was surely one.

“Y/n…” Azriel couldn’t help breathe your name out, it barely a whisper as words he kept tucked in that corner of his mind seemed to pile into his mouth.

Gently your eyes fluttered open, your expression turning to him with a light hum in question. But before he could even untangle the mess of confessions on his tongue, a shadow loomed above.

With a slight jump, you hastily stepped back, colliding into the tough warm frame of the Shadowsinger, craning your neck up to see what had cast such a darkness.

A shadow– Azriel’s shadow.

The smokey tendril seemed to loom over you both inquisitively. It’s movements speaking of a curiosity to how its master was now so tiny.

“There’s always one,” Azriel grumbled, his hand tenderly moving to the small of your back for a moment as he stepped to your side.

Azriel crossed his arms across his chest, his expression boring on unimpressed as he glanced up at the disobedient wisp.

“You’ve got no excuse,” Azriel chastised, referring to the other shadows that had obediently followed an appropriate size to him after dwindling. 

The shadow slumped a little in response, eliciting a small gasp from you at how utterly adorable you found it. As if remembering you were there the shadow turned it’s attention. Azriel’s earlier command to resize itself held no authority but it quickly slinked itself slightly smaller for you. It’s size resembled something of Azriel’s shape as it twirled around you making the layers of your dress flutter up in the wind.

“Oh my…” Your cheeks heated a rosy hue as you attempted to hold your dress down in the gust of air.

“Sorry about that,” Azriel heaved, his patience growing thin as he tried to hide his slight embarrassment at his unruly shadow.

“It’s quite alright Azriel,” you reassured him with a light chuckle, the smile on your lips easing him. The use of his full name, raising goosebumps on his skin.

It wasn’t the only thing your smile eased, the shadow, as if melting under you, softened like honey. Oozing back behind Azriel’s wings in a dazed infatuation.

“Come,” you took Azriel’s hand in yours. Pulling him gently through the blades of green. “You should settle in this size for a while, make sure everything feels okay before we return,”

Azriel watched your fingers interlock with his, the smaller wisps of his shadows winding around your joined hands. Whispering words to one another that he couldn’t hear. 

He swallowed hard, once, twice taking in the view before him. Your usual pink dress dipping to the small of your back, taut flawless skin kissed under the sun as you pulled him through the green. No wings on show, though.

He wondered when you would share that part of you…if ever. 

Azriel would never ask, but he hoped one day you trusted him enough.

That he would be so lucky. But as you glanced back over your shoulder, sending him a soft smile that seemed to bury itself deep into his chest. He pondered, if for only a moment, that perhaps he was lucky.

a/n: just a little instalment from your favourite couple! <3 What else do you want to see from them?? (Other than flower sex , I promise this is coming👀)

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @marscardigan

Wings tags: @minaethrym

[fishnapple]

CRYSTAL READING : Getting in touch with your inner child

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Book a personal reading for you.

Reading for each group below:

1. Moss agate

An active child radiating warm energy everywhere they go.

There is something oddly vulnerable yet brave about your inner child.

A balanced yin and yang energy.

Every passing emotion and need is shown truthfully, no hiding.

I see a red apple under the sun, so full and warm.

The way your inner child sees the world is very unique and magical. If you speak from the inner wisdom of your inner child's honestly, without filters, you would see the profound impacts those words have on everyone.

This child is very creative and always on the move, ready to have fun with their friends. I see that your inner child doesn't really like solitude very much. They need to be free, mingling with people and nature. They care very much about other's well-being.

Life should be an endless adventure with new discovery every moment. To honestly be open to life and see the beauty of it. That is your inner child's belief. Their message for you would be "drink plenty, eat healthy, getting your daily dose of sunshine and play with me often."

🪆How to get more in touch with your inner child :

Make your emotions more transparent

Sharing the little things with people

Be open-minded , speak with candour and honesty without judgement

Go on adventures, travel

Move your body around, dancing, sports

Try out foreign culture's foods

2. Citrine

A doer rather than a talker.

There is a dualistic energy to your inner child.

Soft, gentle, but assertive and bold

Elusive and intense

Quiet but deeply philosophical, is both the teacher and the student

Discipline yet messy

Your inner child is very independent and solid. They don't really need other people's validation or praise to know their worth. Quite stubborn also. Sometimes, they would find it hard to accept help or advice from others.

There is a fascination with hidden things, mysteries, but also a reluctance to delve into them.

Your inner child likes routine and structure. They would feel threatened and nervous if your life is lacking those.

Their deepest need is to have faith and hope in life, that is also their biggest fear, to lose faith and hope. They are very brave, but everything needs to have meaning for them to understand and navigate the world.

Their ideal about the world is deep and compassionate. If you live your life in a directionless and superficial way, your inner child will be very lost and sad. Their message for you would be "always look for the light."

🪆How to get more in touch with your inner child :

Have some routine and build more structure in your daily life

Getting to know your inner fears, shadow work

Speak with intention and when necessary only, avoid frivolities

Finding faith, what you truly believe in

Be more assertive and brave, but with a gentle touch

3. Moonstone

I see an image of a child making a snow angel.

Life is a celebration for your inner child.

Nothing sets your inner child in a high mood than sudden outings and adventure. I think your inner child could get along very well with the first group's inner child 🤭, they are so similar.

I'm also seeing building blocks and castles. Your inner child enjoys building things.

Their deepest need is to be protected and guided through the dark. They could have a fear of the darkness, ghosts, and unknown entity.

Even though they are brave and open, they seem to have endured some deep pains that make them fearful. Lacking an authoritative figure to guide them, having domineering and demanding care takers.

They would love to talk to you constantly, to connect with you, and always be a companion for you. Their message for you right now would be "no matter how things change, we will build our castle tall and strong to weather them all, just be sure to keep the light on"

🪆How to get more in touch with your inner child :

Journaling your thoughts, whimsical inspiration

Active imagination, imagine having a dialogue with your inner child

Lying down, facing the sky above

Making something that feels magical

A kaleidoscope

Going for a swim, taking a run

Discover some new hobbies

Love.

[the-offside-rule]

The Leclerc Sister Headcanons

Idk I'm just bored and wanna do some headcanons but if you wanna ask for more headcanons for drivers just lmk

(GIF IS NOT MINE: @brasiliangp

Role of each brother

♡ Lorenzo: Being the eldest, Lorenzo would be the responsible and wise older brother, offering guidance and a calm presence. Lorenzo, being the eldest, would naturally assume a guiding role. He'd often help you with important life decisions and be someone you can always turn to for serious advice. He would emphasize the importance of education and career planning. He’d help you with homework, discuss future plans, and encourage you to pursue your goals with diligence. While he might not be as overtly protective as Charles or Arthur, Lorenzo’s calm and steady presence would make you feel safe and secure. He'd quietly ensure everything in your life is running smoothly.

♡ You'd likely share some intellectual hobbies with Lorenzo, such as reading, discussing current events, or exploring cultural activities like museum visits or music concerts. Not to mention that whenever there’s a disagreement between siblings, Lorenzo would step in as the mediator, helping to resolve conflicts with a balanced and fair approach.

♡ Charles: Charles would be your confidant and biggest supporter, always making time for you despite his busy schedule. Charles’s dedication to his racing career would be a source of inspiration for you. He’d teach you the importance of following your passions with commitment and hard work. Despite his busy schedule, Charles would make time for adventurous outings with you, like spontaneous road trips, go-karting sessions, or even just exploring new hobbies together. If you have any interest in motorsports, Charles would be thrilled to share his knowledge and experience, perhaps even mentoring you if you decide to try racing yourself.

♡ He would be there for you during tough times, offering emotional support and a listening ear. His experiences in a high-pressure environment would provide valuable perspectives. Being Charles’s sister would bring some media attention. He’d help you navigate this with grace, teaching you how to handle public scrutiny and maintain your privacy.

♡ Arthur: Arthur, closer to your age, would be your partner in crime, sharing secrets, jokes, and adventures. However, there are often times that the two of you would bicker, leading to the pair of you to try outdo eachother on pranks as a form of Revenge. Arthur’s youthful energy and playful nature would make him a fun and lively sibling. He’d always have new activities or games to share, keeping life exciting. With Arthur, there’d be a sense of friendly rivalry. Whether it’s sports, video games, or academic achievements, he’d push you to be your best, always in a supportive way.

♡ Arthur would introduce you to his wide circle of friends, helping you expand your social network and feel included in various social activities. Arthur would encourage you to step out of your comfort zone and try new things, helping you build confidence in your abilities and interests. If you have any creative interests, like music, art, or writing, Arthur would be eager to collaborate and share ideas, fostering a creative partnership between you two.

♡ You'd have a close relationship with Pascale, your mother, who would be a strong support system and a source of wisdom and comfort. She would help you navigate the complexities of life in the spotlight, as well as a fair bit of telling off when needed. She's had three boys before you and knows how to handle bad moods and outbursts. She tries her best to keep you out of the spotlight and away from trouble, but Lorenzo often reminds her it's only a matter of time before people begin to try and look into her.

♡ Family dinners would be lively events, filled with laughter, storytelling, and delicious food. Each brother would bring their own stories and experiences, making these moments cherished and memorable.

♡ The dynamic between Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur would create a balanced household. Lorenzo's maturity, Charles’s passion, and Arthur’s energy would provide a well-rounded environment for you.

♡ Growing up with each of them would expose you to a variety of interests and activities, from intellectual pursuits with Lorenzo, motorsport adventures with Charles, to fun and creative endeavors with Arthur.

♡ Despite their different personalities and approaches, all three brothers would be united in their love and support for you, creating a strong family bond that you can always rely on.

[teenytinyjimin]

baroque (j. jungkook)

summary: masquerade balls are all fun and games until you meet that one person that you feel like you’ve known for a lifetime, but regardless as to who he is, you can’t just let him go.

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 2.4k

tags: masquerade, mystery, academia/renaissance/baroque (i know these are all different but its a little combination), ballroom dancing, reader is absolutely in love with this mystery man she’s dancing with, and he’s kinda in love with her too, spoiler: they know each other, kissing of course!

warnings: none

author’s note: IM BACK! IM SO SORRY BUT IM BACK! anyways i hope u guys enjoy! my last kook fic got a lot of traction so thank u so much <3 so i hope this is up to par with that one :)

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

As you stood at the steps to the entrance of one of the largest ballrooms in town, you took a deep sigh. This wasn't a sigh of distress, however, it was more of a sigh of anticipation.

Balls weren't necessarily a thing of the 21st century. Had it been, say, four-hundred or five-hundred years prior, a ball would be the talk of the town and absolutely everyone would be flooding into the ballroom to have the time of their lives dancing with one another. Alas, it was 2024, and the only people you'd see attending a ball nowadays would be people who are actively interested in Renaissance and Baroque culture and seek rare events pertaining to such.

There was something about these classical time periods that felt ageless and beautiful to you. The big gowns, glimmering jewels, and elaborate ballroom designs were absolutely gorgeous. So of course you were going to indulge in as much classical beauty as possible in modern times. And that meant going to balls whenever you could (or, in other words, whenever you were able to hear about them through the grapevine).

So here you were, in your elaborate Renaissance dress, staring at the entrance ahead of you. This particular ball was a masquerade ball, so it was even more exciting considering the fact that most everyone would be anonymously dancing behind beautifully decorated masks. You looked down at your own mask in hand, a beautiful and ornate piece strewn with jewels, glitter, and feathers. You had spent the last week perfecting the mask and had gone through nearly a dozen prototypes before you created what you thought was the best piece of work you had ever done in your twenty-something years of living. It was beautiful, and it would do a perfect job of hiding exactly what needed to be hidden to make this masquerade a true mystery for you.

Fastening the mask over your head and onto your face, you began to ascend the steps and enter the ballroom. As anticipated, the venue was covered in beautiful Renaissance artwork and ornate chandeliers. The marble pillars holding the place together really brought everything to life as they echoed the Roman influence that they possessed into the large room. Ahead of you was a sea of elaborate gowns and tuxedos, all spinning around in harmony as they danced with one another to the beautiful orchestral music that played.

"A glass of champagne, miss?" A voice called out from next to you. You looked over to see a masked waiter with a tray of champagne flutes in his hand. You gave him a polite nod and curtsy as you took a glass from him. Champagne wasn't necessarily your drink of choice, however you needed something to keep you company while you waited for a good opportunity to join the dancing or, alternatively, until you were asked to dance.

As you approached the floor of the ball, navigating through the sea of dancing people, you attempted to find someone you may have recognized. Sure, masquerades made it rather difficult to identify a person and thus it was quite hard to know if you knew anyone anyway, but it was worth a shot for the sake of socializing. For the most part, everyone seemed pretty invested in their partners, committing to the elaborate ballroom dance that was taking place to the sound of a piano and violin.

Within a matter of moments, you suddenly found yourself on the ground as you had accidentally run directly into another individual. You looked up to see a gloved hand reach down to you, begging for your touch so that it could help you to your feet once again. As you obliged, you realized the body to which the hand was connected was much stronger than you had anticipated as you practically flew back to your feet. A little lightheaded from the rush of movement, you swayed for a moment and tried to find your footing, but the hand that previously helped you was now firmly on your waist as a form of support.

You brushed off your dress once you found yourself more stable, a bright red blush creeping to your cheeks. "I'm so sorry-" You began before looking up to the person in front of you. Something about his presence left you fascinated – He was tall with wide shoulders and toned arms, something you could immediately notice through his tight-fitting shirt. Despite being fit to his body, his shirt was beautiful and contained all sorts of frills and jewels. Only one of his hands were gloved, as the other one was covered in bracelets and rings of a particularly ornate design. He had the most beautiful chain necklaces wrapped around his neck which perfectly suited his beautiful jawline, which was both sharp and soft at the same time. His lips, a perfect amount of plump, were curled into a soft smile which made him a lot less intimidating than he seemed. When you finally saw his eyes, you were met with the most beautiful black orbs that were wide with wonder and amazement. You could've sworn that you've seen those eyes somewhere, as they reminded you of all the comfort you had ever felt in your life, but you couldn't quite put them to a face you recognized. Though this man's face was hidden behind a beautiful mask, you could tell that he was breathtaking in every sense of the word.

"Are you okay?" He asked, maintaining eye contact with you. There was no way you were going to escape his gaze, not because he wouldn't let you but also because you didn't want to. You nodded softly as you continued awkwardly brushing off your dress, unsure of how to speak to the man in front of you. The soft smile that was once on his face now grew to a more toothy grin as he took your hand in his and gently pressed your knuckles to his lips. "If you'd like to make it up to me, I'd love to dance with you."

How were you meant to say no to him? Besides the fact that he had quite literally left you speechless, everything about him was absolutely gorgeous and you'd never turn down an offer to dance with someone like him. As you once again responded with a nod, you felt as he used the hand he had wrapped around your waist to guide you further into the crowd of people and to a more open area where you could properly dance. Once there, he pulled you slightly closer to him as he took your hand in his free one. You naturally placed your other hand upon his bicep, which was tense under your touch, and he began to guide you into a waltz-style dance. It felt as if this came naturally to him as you effortlessly swayed around. You continued to stare into his beautiful doe eyes which shimmered with fantasy as they quite literally pierced into your soul. Whoever this man was, he was perfect in every sense of the word. He was just so perfect.

"You look absolutely stunning, by the way. I'm not sure if I mentioned that," He said after a moment, causing you to blush and look away. "I could say the same about you," You responded quietly, letting yourself feel the air around you blow through your hair. "Thank you for helping me up, by the way. This dress is difficult to maneuver in when you're on the ground."

"It's my pleasure. After all, we bumped into each other. I had an obligation. I wasn't going to let a beautiful girl fend for herself on the ground as a bunch of people danced all over her." You looked back over to him and let out a soft giggle, watching as a grin rose to his face. Something about him was just so warm and inviting, yet you couldn't put your finger on what it was. Perhaps you two knew each other in a past life, one in which you were actually attending balls together in the Renaissance.

"I bet you call a lot of girls at these sorts of things beautiful. I mean, look at you." You say in a teasing tone, watching as his grin dropped to a smirk. "Bold of you to assume that I go to these dances very often, miss." He lets out a soft sigh as he continues to effortlessly sway you around, refusing to stop staring at you. "But even if I did, you're the most breathtaking of them all. Honest."

You remove your hand from his as you bring both hands to rest on the back of his neck, attempting to push yourself closer to him so you can talk a little quieter. "You seem like a pro, do you really not go to balls very often?" He shrugs under your touch as he wraps both arms around your waist, holding you tightly. "Not really. This is my first time coming to this place at least. I'm more of a contemporary dancer."

"Ah, I see," You say softly, letting one of your hands feel at the hair on the back of his neck. He lets out a hitched breath at your touch but continues to sway the two of you back and forth. "It's a beautiful venue, though. It feels like we're in the 1700s and not the 2000s." He comments, looking up briefly at the chandelier above the two of you. You couldn't help but agree. Sometimes when you go to events like these you forget about the chaos of life and pretend that you're still in the Renaissance, which is beautiful in and of itself.

"Have you been on the balcony yet? It has a beautiful view of the city if you want to go take a look," You propose, looking back down at the man in your arms. You watch as his eyes soften and a small smile grows on his lips, pulling away so he can offer you his hand. "You lead the way," He says as you take your hand in his and gently pull him away from the crowd.

As soon as you reached the fresh air of the empty balcony, the two of you stood in silence as you admired the shimmering lights of the city in front of you. "Wow..." He muttered, clearly surprised at the sight in front of him. "You can see pretty much everything from here. How is that possible?" You approach the railing of the balcony and lean against it, taking a moment to look around. "The ballroom is on a hill, even though it doesn't really feel like it. It's actually above the rest of the town so the balcony is able to look down on everything around us."

"I hate to say it, but it seems like I might have found something more beautiful than you." Letting out a small gasp, you turn around to face the man behind you, noticing a huge grin on his face. You smile in return. "I guess I don't blame you. A good view beats a pretty face any day."

"Mmm." He hums, approaching you slowly. He secures his hands on your waist as he picks you up with ease and places you on the railing, keeping contact with you at all times to ensure that you don't fall. Once you are steady on the railing he wraps both arms around you and presses himself tightly to you for extra support, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to stay safe. "I'm only joking anyway. I don't think it's possible to be more beautiful than you."

"Well, I think you're living proof of that, because you're definitely more beautiful than me," You mumble as the distance between your faces becomes much shorter than it once was. He lets out a breathy laugh as he removes one of his arms from your waist and attaches his hand to your face, stroking it gently before closing the gap completely and bringing you in for a kiss.

Kissing someone under the stars is one thing, but kissing someone mysteriously under the stars is another thing. You have no idea who this man is, you don't even know his name, yet here you are, lips connected to his. This is perhaps the best kiss you have ever experienced, as he is so soft yet so passionate with his movements. He never once lets go of you with his other hand, keeping you secure on the railing so that you don't accidentally slip. The one on your face is so soft and gentle, holding onto your face in the most perfect way. It is only now that you are able to really breathe in his scent, an obviously expensive cologne that you would kill to drown in at this point. He was consuming every part of you and you wanted him and only him.

The two of you pulled away briefly so that he could stare into your eyes for a moment. "You really are breathtaking," He mumbled, fiddling with the bottom edge of your mask. As he began to slowly pull it off of your face, you watched as his expression went from lovestruck to shocked. It looked as if seeing your face without the mask scared him. He didn't like how you looked.

"I'm sorry-" You begin to say, tears welling up in your eyes. However he stops you as he takes his own mask off, revealing a face that you could never forget. Jeon Jungkook. Your childhood best friend. The boy you had a crush on for years several years ago. He wasn't disgusted by how you looked. He was shocked that it was you.

"Jungkook?" You said breathlessly, unable to say anything beyond his name. He only stared at you in response, unsure of what his own next move would be. This wasn't something you had ever expected. Not the whole 'kissing your childhood best friend' part, but the fact that somehow in an event of anonymity, you would find your way to each other. And now that you have shared this night together, it's almost as if all the feelings you ever felt for him over the years have flooded back to you as you once again felt head-over-heels for him.

Finally, you watched as a toothy smile returned to his face. He placed his hand once again on your cheek and brushed it as you watched him admire your features. "Thank god it's you. I've been waiting for this moment for years," He mumbled before pulling you in again for another kiss.

[meanbossart]

in your universe, post game does astarion and drow ever wonder about astarions previous life/family and go looking for it/them?

So, I have some vague headcanons of my own regarding Astarion's family! Can't say they're based on much besides whatever vestige we can assume to be Astarion's "base" personality, and what kind of upbringing produces a man like him.

I would say he comes from a upper-middle class family where either his father, mother, or both parents worked in careers of a similar standing to what he eventually would operate in. His role as a magistrate was, at least in part, thanks to nepotism especially when you consider how young he would have been considered at the time for his race. That said, I do believe he must have been highly educated and primed for it from a young age and was intimately knowledgeable about the ins and outs of his job.

He was raised mostly by his father, his mother having been kicked out of the house when he was a child/young teenager after she developed a drinking problem that got steadily out of control. She would have had a spotty presence in his life for a while before eventually fizzling out entirely, neither knowing what became of her. His dad was a fairly emotionally distant man who wanted his son to succeed in life above anything else, so, at the same time that he provided Astarion with everything he needed in terms of resources and education, he was was otherwise absent, and let Astarion get away with pretty much anything as long as it occurred outside his field of view and didn't affect his duties or the family's reputation. Astarion expertly balanced a standard party-drugs-rock&roll lifestyle and his responsibilities as a youth to keep his father out of his hair, only slipping every once in a while.

He would have become distant from his dad as an "adult" (not quite an adult back then within elf culture, but at least a man with a job and a life of his own) and the two only touched base a few times a year at best, and mostly talked about his career.

After Cazador turned him, Astarion would have eventually figured out a way to, every so often, check the mail at his home. At some point he receives a letter letting him know that his father (who no longer resided in Baldur's Gate) passed away.

He tells DU drow about this to the best of his memory shortly after the events of the game, which is to say the he has no longer any living family that he knows of/knows how to contact.

[currentfandomkick]

Back-ish.

Took a bit to finish this as Work Hell and exhaustion (and editing for format ReasonsTM)

Enjoy, and let me know if there’s anything in particular you want explored next, and i’ll see if i can add it to the list for the drabbles (the characters hijack everything so no guarantees)

Masterpost Here

Contrary to popular belief, Skulker is good at his job.

He knows how to craft a perfect trap, how to hunt virtually every type of ghost, and has succeeded every time with enough persistence. The halfa was proving an excellent challenge and reminder that hunting took time and planning.

The issue was he also knew his prey was being hunted by another, and this one’s motives were unknown. This ectopus made it clear that it intends to drown the whelp in either form, and that. That annoyed Skulker.

He followed the rules of hunting. Do not go after pregnant entities, or those capable of during their respective spawning season(s). Only hunt what is permitted. Always release your prey if they are endangered, but you may take something to commemorate the event.

Skulker’s choice was the halfa’s first pelt. He’d grow a new one in a year or so, and it would give the halfa time to acclimate to the zone rather than guarding the portal and the whole of Amity so viciously.

But this Ectopus ignored the rules of engaging with the halfa—only treat Phantom and Fenton as the same person when the “ghost hunting”parents were not around. No need to put the child at risk long term.

Halfas were extinct in the realms far longer than most were certain of, a few reigns before Pariah at least. And Skulker was well aware most of the ghosts and Neverborn he interacted with were born well into the Age of Anarchy as Ghost Writer and the record keepers were so fond of calling it.

And it was only after Pariah’s ‘sleep’ began that the liminal population declined on the Living’s side. Apparently species like Sampson’s took quite the hit, most no longer existing. Sampson was one of two Purpler Back Gorillas alive.

Understandably, the liminal gorilla was frustrated. Non-liminals failed to comprehend ghost speak, their culture was almost dead due lack of population and they were treated more like a lab rat than a person.

That was before encountering the first liminal—admittedly halfas pushed the limits of liminality—she’d found existed besides herself. The whelp’s understanding of the language was basic, but he hasn’t had his first shedding yet nor did he seem to interact with other liminals often either.

Skulker was not idiotic enough to ignore the Whelp’s need for his ghost parent’s protection. It was the issue of getting Sampson around Amity to protect the whelp from this “Taco” ectopus that was an issue.

He made sure to bring a fruit basket from the Realms, and included a shedding from a birdlike entity.

Sampson snarled until he left the offering.

“I have news about your son. He is ill,” Skulker began.

Sampson growled ill???Howexplain

“Likely the overhunting from Taco the Ectopus, as the whelp calls them, but there may be other causes. He’s rather old now to not have undergone his first shedding—don’t look at me like that we both know he is—and is experiencing soul form regression. there are those in the Realms who can help.”

Sampson beat her chest. yesHelphow?

“We need to bring him to Realm’s doctors. He may need to reside in his haunt, or require treatment of a number of things. I am not certain, but this Taco may require independent capture and containment. The doctors will know better,” Skulker admitted.

goNOW

“… yes we can go once we have the whelp—does his core have a particular sensation attached to it?”

ColdbigHugemoving

“I’ll let the doctors know when we arrive. Do you want to bring him in his small form, or one of his usual two?”

smallEasycarry

“He should be headed to the aquarium tonight, shall I set up the blob ghost perimeter?” It was the easiest way to monitor one’s prey and lire away competition… and confirm whether or not this “Taco” is targeting the whelp personally or as an ecto source.

He’s hoping the latter, but has a sinking feeling it will be the former. And he will have to hide the stupid finned brat in his prosthetic…

He should see if his girlfriend or her friends don’t mind helping him distract the intruder from the whelp.

Johnny and Kitty are rather fond of their ex. And Ember is insistent on setting up more playdates between her frightmate Youngblood and the whelp. Something about them being ‘same font different hat’ that he didn’t quite get. Oh well, if it didn’t involve animals, weapons, tactics or hunting he rarely gave it much thought in life, let alone his afterlife.

With Sampson’s (terrifying) blessing, Skulker got to work.

Masterpost Here

Tags: @skulld3mort-1fan @theizzyof3malec3 @brattysleepyreader @sebas-nights @elidaweirdotaku0520 @bianca-hooks123 @the-autistic-spider @laurcad123 @just-lurking-here-dont-mind-meh @atinygracie @stars-obsession-pit @wanderwithwings @aibhilin-atibeka

[blondieeu]

london. aizawa s.

in the real world, shouta works as an maths professor at an advanced high school with a 0.2% acceptance rate and he feels super weird when his co-workers call him his first name since he’s still getting used to american culture.

his students love him, and in his own way he loves that back and will never tell anybody it makes him sad to see them move up a grade.

shouta doesn’t care for the news really, apart from amber alerts and weather reports—that he doesn’t listen to anyway.

and regardless of the incredibly affordable and nice housing near his job he chooses to live on the other side of town just so nobody knows where he lives.

unbeknownst to everyone’s eyes but yours, shouta really enjoys everything in his life, even the little things.

he enjoys when the birds that spend time with him on his window sill every morning before he leaves for work.

—or even when you wake up at the same time as him so you can wash his hair in the shower just because you know he likes that.

in the real world, shouta owns 3 cats—two black one ginger.

he’s also gaining smile lines in the corner of his eyes because of how much you make him laugh when it’s just the two of you. nobody notices them though, they just take it as a sign that he’s getting old.

you live in a quiet place in london. he moved there to be with you, but he does miss his mother from time to time. he also likes the martinis they serve down the street from the house.

shouta refuses to have sex with you unless he’s doing all the work, says “it’s his job to make you feel good.” he also refuses to let you give him head.

and he will never get rough with you in bed because he said it takes away from the aspect of making love, says that he’s sharing his soul with you.

☺️ i love aizawa!

blondieeu xx

[ao3commentoftheday]

i'm currently in a fandom with a source material that isn't originally in English, which means everything is translated. i've been in my head lately about how that means (or it at least feels like that means) that i don't truly know the exact words they're saying, what certain things mean because i don't know the culture, all that. it's making me feel weird about writing fic, because how well do i even know the source material, anyway, if there's this barrier? am i overthinking this?

I think you're largely overthinking things. Translation is an art and translators take a lot of time and care in getting the messages of the original author across to an audience. There's always room for error and the interpretation they have of a work will be informed by their own life and experiences, layered on top of the original work, but reading something that's been translated is just as valid as reading the original.

In terms of the cultural piece, however, I would strongly recommend you do some research. Learning some of the basics will help you avoid the common pitfalls and engaging with members of your fandom (or just the world at large) who live in that culture will also help you steer yourself away from racist or xenophobic issues that you might otherwise find yourself engaging in through ignorance.

If research isn't your thing for whatever reason, then I suggest writing AUs instead of attempting to be canon-compliant or writing about the culture you don't know anything about. Taking the characters you love and putting them into a different world with different rules will hopefully also help you - although finding a sensitivity reader is never a bad idea in situations like this.

I suspect that the reason you feel weird about writing fic is because you can see some of these issues possibly cropping up and you want to avoid them. I'll open it up to the blog now and see if anyone has other suggestions for writing about a culture you're not a member of. I'd especially love to hear from folks whose cultures have been misunderstood and misrepresented in fandom, if they're willing to share. How would you like to see people in fandom handle this situation?

[just-late-roman-republic-things]

A map of languages of Iron-Age Italy and its surroundings. A small glimpse of how diverse and complex the region already was, before the Romans even got started!

The Italic languages on this map include Latin, Faliscan, South Picene, Umbrian and Oscan. They all descended from the same language, now called Proto-Italic. Venetic and Sicel may also be Italic, but we aren't sure.

Between 200 BCE and 100 CE, Latin gradually replaced all the other Italic languages (and Etruscan). Later, Latin itself would split into the Romance languages: Italian, Spanish, French, Romanian, Portuguese, and many more.

Proto-Italic was part of the massive Indo-European language family. If the Italic languages are Latin's siblings, then other branches of this family are Latin's cousins, more distantly related. They are all descended from Proto-Indo-European!

(Map of Eurasian countries where Indo-European languages are spoken. See source page for details on color coding. This does not include the Americas, Australia, or anywhere else colonialism has carried these languages even farther!)

Some of these branches also appear on the ancient Italy map: Greek in the south, the Illyrian language(s) in the east, and Celtic languages including Gaullish and Lepontic in the west. Messapic was probably also an Indo-European language. Of these, only Greek is still spoken today, in its modern form. But Gaullish and Lepontic have living Celtic cousins in the form of Welsh, Irish, and Scottish Gaelic.

However! Not all languages in Iron-Age Italy were Indo-European. The Proto-Indo-European language was spread across Eurasia by migrating people, who encountered other peoples and languages as they went:

(Possible migration routes of Indo-Europeans galloping all over the bloody place. See source for details of who went where.)

On the Italy map, Etruscan and Raetic are probably descendants of a Tyrhennic language that predates the Indo-European arrival.

We know little about ancient Ligurian, Nuragic, North Picene, and Liburnian, and which families they would fall into. In fact, it's not clear whether Liburnian was a separate language at all.

For many of these languages we have very little evidence, and scholars disagree about how the language should be classified. There is also no hard line between a language and a dialect, and sometimes languages influence each other so much that you can't tell where one begins and another ends. So, put a big old "...hypothetically" on everything pre-Roman in this post.

On thing we are sure of, though, is that the Punic language comes from somewhere else entirely - what's now modern-day Lebanon! Punic is descended from Phoenician in the Afro-Asiatic language family. This makes it a distant relative of Egyptian, Hebrew and Arabic.

I love languages. I think every one of them is beautiful and weird in its own way, and it's fascinating to see how people's historical movements and culture gets imprinted into the words we speak.

[eldritchfancies]

We Do Not Live In Separate Realities.

When I make a tongue-in-cheek post about being masters of our own realities, I don't mean that I believe we are 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 living in separate realities the way Neville (inconsistently) stated. I mean that we can shape our experiences and circumstances to a large degree through the power of thought, and that we should feel confident and empowered to do so. Manifestation is real and the Law does work. But that does not mean we control 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, or that we're in a separate reality.

Think about it. I'm saying that we are individualized points of God Conciousness in a shared reality, capable of affecting much, but not everything. But if we are individualized beings and ALSO in individualized realities in which we alone manifested everything through our thoughts, beliefs and assumptions, 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴!

You and I don't spend all day thinking the same thoughts, nor do we have the same assumptions. We probably have completely different sets of beliefs. Yet are we really to believe that coincidentally, we somehow both manifested the same exact world with all the same stars and planets, and their distances and orbits? The same cities, continents and cultures? That we both manifested the Holocaust and the volcanic eruptions at Pompeii and Krakatau? The Salem Witch Trials? The war on the Gaza Strip? The same books, the same movies, the same piddling celebrity gossip? That for some reason we both manifested random things like The Muppet Show, Pop Rocks and Furbys?

And that not only you and I happened to manifest 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 of the same details in our so-called "individual realities," but that everyone else in the world did too, so that we're all able to study the same history and chat about the same current events, media and products?

...Really?

The idea that we live in "separate reality" only works when people use the term "reality" in a sloppy way, and I admit that I've done this too. People call our interpretations of the world "our reality," which is fine until it's implied that it means we're each in some world that is actually separate (and yet that we're mysteriously and conveniently able to communicate with one another.) But we're not. We're in a shared reality that we are able to interpret any way we please, and our thoughts will shape our 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 of that reality.

The idea of individual realities is untrue, unnecessary and actually toxic. It's untrue because of the reasons I've stated. It's unnecessary because you don't need to believe you're in "Your Own Private Idaho" (to quote the B52's) to manifest the life you want. And it's toxic because it leads to victim blaming within the loa community; blaming people for awful circumstances which were out of their control, telling them that it's their reality after all, so they have no one else to blame! (Yet the person pointing the finger at them wouldn't be able to do so unless the event were also part of THEIR reality, so...make it make sense.)

If anyone disagrees with what I've said here and replies, please don't just respond with "That's just your opinion" or "That's just true for you." 𝘈𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘺𝘻𝘦 what I've said and tell me where the flaws in my reasoning are. That's all I ask. 🙏

[jumexju]

¿OH, QUÈ SERÀ?

Pairing !! : House / Reader

Fic Type !! : Oneshot / Fluff

CW !! : House's jokes (He's an ass), reader is latino/a (gender isn't specified), untranslated spanish is used

Summary !!: He made a bet with Wilson.. and lost.

Note !! : the house md brainrot is consuming me lol (szn 5 is making me physically ill)

✦ MASTERLIST

“You Like them!” Wilson barged into House’s office as if he had made a grand discovery. House dismissed his team and continued eating his tacos de birria, waiting for Wilson to expand on his outrageous claim of him liking a woman. “It’s been three weeks and they're still living with you, ergo: You haven't kicked them out or you haven’t told me — and the latter can’t be true because you tell me everything!” The blonde had his hands on his hips while he talked. 

“Who? _____?” House asked, feigning confusion. “They cook and they're not boring. Plus they clean- And for free too!” 

“Not for free, they need a place to live, they're probably just being courteous, House!” Wilson warned, “You’re trying to hide the fact that you care about them because then it makes you seem more human and you don’t want that because you hate when people see your nice side!” The Oncologist kept lecturing him but he wasn’t really paying any attention to it. 

“I have a nice side?” House's words dripped with sarcasm. He did, however, seem to be enjoying the birria tacos you’d made the day before. Apparently it was a big thing in latin american culture to cook as if you were feeding a whole village, so you had a lot left over. 

“Yes, you have a-! That’s why you’re letting them stay!” Wilson argued, a boyish smile on his face at the realization that his friend had a crush on a fellow colleague. 

“I’m not letting them do anything, I’m just taking advantage of their cooking and cleaning skills.” He dipped the end of the taco in the consumè you’d made, savoring the explosion of flavor that was currently happening  in his mouth. 

“You know that’s not true.” Wilson sat in front of House’s desk, facing him with the smile still present. “You L-I-K-E  them,” The blonde spelled out, “Just admit it!” 

“If I do, will you leave me and my tacos  alone?” House lifted a brow as he licked his index finger and thumb. 

“You didn’t happen to delete a message they were expecting from an apartment manager, did you? ,” Wilson questioned, a knowing look on his face. 

“... No-”

“Aha!” Wilson exclaimed, “Your hesitance indicates that you did! Jeez, just ask them out, House. It’s not that hard,” Wilson shrugged, “Unless you’re too chicken of course…” 

“You wanna bet?” House laid back in his chair, empty tupperware sitting on his desk as he smirked. 

“A hundred dollars if  you ask them out and go out on a genuine date.” Wilson said as he crossed his arms. See, he knew something that House didn’t. Around a few months ago, you confided in Wilson and told him about your feelings for House. However, when Wilson had suggested that you ask him out, you said you didn’t want to risk it, especially because you knew there was a high chance he wouldn’t reciprocate. Of course, Wilson said it was reasonable and left it alone, listening to your vents about House and whatnot whenever your attempts to bury your feelings failed. 

Unfortunately for House, You were a great actor, because not even he knew of your feelings for him. You kept it professional, or well tried to before you had to move out. You didn’t tell him the details of that, but somehow you ended up living in House’s…  house. Certain that you would say no, House replied: “If you lose, you owe me a hundred.” With that, the bet was in place and House couldn’t be more excited to get his hundred dollars tomorrow and see the defeated look on Wilson’s face when he told him that there was no date. 

With a pep in his step, House could hear the faint salsa playing before he even opened the door. His keys jingled while finding the right one but before he could insert it into the lock, you opened the door. Did you recognize the jingle of his keys? “Hey? You’re back late.” You smiled before leaving him to walk in and close the door himself. 

“Yeah it Wilson was begging me not to go, He’s clingy.” House joked. 

“You guys make the cutest couple,” You said sarcastically as you stirred the rice you were making. 

House sat on the couch and popped a pill, “I wear the pants in the relationship, just so you know.” 

“Yeah I can’t picture you wearing a skirt,” 

“I can picture you wearing a skirt,” House insinuated as he checked you out, “You’ve got a great ass for it.” 

You rolled your eyes, “You’ve gone senile, Atrevido.” You shook your head and laughed at his comments. “Has that line ever worked on anyone?” 

“Usually,” House shrugged.

“Yeah maybe back in your day,” You finished off the rice and began slicing the potatoes you’d put off to the side earlier. “Anyway, You haven’t heard any messages about  the apartments I applied at, have you? They said they’d call me back like two weeks ago and I haven’t heard anything.” 

House pursed his lips and acted clueless, “Nope, Nada.” The older man shrugged and positioned his feet on the coffee table in front of him. “What are you making?” 

“Carne con papa y arroz,” You told him. “My mom used to make it for me as a kid and I missed the taste so I’m making it. ¿Te terminaste los tacos de birria que hice ayer?” 

“Yeah.” House left out the part where he smacked Wilson’s hand for trying to steal a taco. 

“What’d you think of them?” 

“They weren’t horrible.” House, being himself of course, wouldn’t admit that he loved them. 

You smiled to yourself, knowing House, that was probably the closest you were going to get to a compliment about your food. Because the tupperware was basically clean, you could tell he actually liked them. For House, his actions usually spoke louder than his words. Once the meat finished cooking, you added the potatoes and put the lid over the pot, the only thing left to do was to wait for the potatoes to soften. With a sigh of relief, you grabbed your cup of mango-strawberry flavored wine and hummed the tune that played softly in the kitchen as you walked over to the couch to sit next to House. After a few minutes of comfortable silence, House spoke up. 

“Do you wanna go on a date?” 

You looked up from your magazine, “A date?” 

House slowly nodded, “That’s what I said, yeah.” 

You shrugged, “As long as you’re paying.” You chuckled and kept reading your magazine, you didn’t even take a moment to mull it over. House was a little surprised by your lack of hesitance, but it was overshadowed by his disappointment. 

“Wait, really?” House asked but he didn’t seem thrilled by your willingness to go on a date with him. 

“I mean, yeah?  It’s free food. It’s not like you like me or anything so why would I pass that up?” You chuckled, “Unless you actually like me, in which case, I probably look like an asshole right now.” Your eyes widened and you put your magazine down. “You don’t like me do you?” 

“No, it was a bet, which — thanks to you — I just lost.” He sighed and slouched into the couch. 

“My bad,” You laughed, “How much did you bet on me saying no?” 

“A hundred dollars.” 

You almost spit out your wine, “You were that sure I’d say no??” 

“I was, up until a moment ago.” House glanced at you as if you’d sabotaged him. 

You patted his arm trying to calm his butthurt-self, a bright smile on your face, “Sorry House, Free food is hard to pass up.” 

“Yeah, Milk the hot doctor of allllll his money, that’s your plan huh?” House looked up at the ceiling. 

“Dunno about the ‘hot’ part but everything else is accurate,” You laughed, picking up your magazine again. 

“Yeah, I’m not as hot as the burning food on the stove right now.” House stated. Your eyes widened as you hopped off the couch, setting the wine on the coffee table and running to the stove. 

“You ass! You couldn’t just  remind me like a normal person??” 

He sipped on your glass of wine as you checked if the food was burnt, “I’m far from normal, I thought you’d’ve known that by now.” House chuckled. 

“You shouldn’t drink when you’re on drugs y’know.” You snatched the cup from him as you sat back down, “You’ll end up doing some serious damage to your brain.” 

“Like I can get any worse, It’s not like I’m dying.” He turned on the TV, the  rom-com you two would watch together came on. 

“Yeah it’d suck if you died,” You finished the cup of wine. 

“Would it?” He asked as he glanced at your lips, wet from the wine. 

“Yeah. Where else would I live?” You met his eyes. 

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Freeloader.” 

“Hey-! I’m cooking and cleaning as payment, so not freeloading.” You nudged him with your elbow, playful smile on your face as you looked back at the TV. 

Maybe Wilson was right. Maybe he did like you. 

Just a bit though.

[tariah23]

https://x.com/imlost_mp44/status/1734726462605779390?s=46&t=QiKHdDdvKoMxWGyakqTvxA

But until then they will be at each other’s throats

Tbh, If you aren’t Black or Asian then I don’t think it’s fully appropriate to comment on like, any of this, especially even mentioning “the being at each others throats,” part if I’m being honest, like. Black ppl as a whole don’t really have much of an issue with anyone else, it’s usually just the other way around really and for the most part, we accept everyone (sometimes to a fault,) into our space and culture. Just as long as it’s not appropriative or making fun of us then it’s like, what can you do? There will always be conversations needed to be had in order to build some kind of common ground between poc but yeah.

[blackexcellence]

Art by @lehuckbadu

African Hair Threading

Hair Threading has been part of the Black hair scene for many generations. It consists of wrapping sectioned hair in thread. This method of wrapping the hair in thread strengthens the hair without excessive manipulation, which is beneficial for your strands. Not only does the style strengthen the hair, but it also promotes growth.

The style comes from Sub-Saharan African countries and grew its popularity in West Africa, particularly, South Nigeria. Learn more here

Art by Izzakko via @blacklacerabbit

Bantu Knots and Hi-Top Fades

The Zulu people of southern Africa originated Bantu knots, a hairstyle where the hair is sectioned off, twisted, and wrapped in such a way that the hair stacks upon itself to form a spiraled knot (Source). Learn the history of Bantu Knots

The hi-top fade or flattop originated in the U.S. military around the ‘40s and ‘50s. By the mid-eighties, Black barbers began to reimagine the hairstyle, and due to its resemblance to Queen Nefertiti’s Empress headpiece, some speculated the hairstyle's origin. The hairstyle grew as a trend when worn by the like of Grace Jones, Doug E. Fresh, and Salt-N-Peppa.

Art by LaQuecya Allen via @nappy-by-nature

Afro

As far as hairstyles go, there's nothing Blacker than the Afro. In the 1960s, after decades of subjecting themselves to European beauty standards, Black folks decided to take back their hair. This newfound self-acceptance was widely known as the Black Is Beautiful movement, which sprang from the Black Power movement. The 'fro was rocked by Angela Davis, Huey P. Newton, and Jesse Jackson while fighting oppression; the hairstyle quickly emerged as a symbol of Black beauty, liberation, and pride.

Remember: tag your Black hair art with #BlackExcellence365 for a chance to be featured!

And keep your eyes out for next month's theme... 👀

[dollopheadsandclotpoles]

Due to that post I made re: why it's hard for aros/aces to imagine a future for themselves because society tells you a romantic partner will always take priority, a lot of people (aros/aces and allos alike) are sharing stories about how they have been discarded by their close friends and it's breaking my heart. But allos and aspecs coming in and sharing how they have the same amount of love for their partners and their best friends/siblings is healing it.

Still, there are people in the tags saying that aros/aces can "never offer their partners the kind of intimacy they need" and so they shouldn't be "surprised" when they feel closer to partners than their friends. You guys are missing the point.

The point is that we should NOT be ranking our relationships. People aren't there to be ranked on a scale of "This person is my number one and this person comes after that." The point is that you need multiple people in your life. One person cannot - and should not - be responsible for giving you everything you need. Different people will give you different things that you need in life and you should value all of them.

The idea that a romantic partner will give you every single thing you need in life is a toxic idea in itself and puts undue pressure on said partner and the relationship as a whole. A best friend won't give you everything either. You NEED multiple people in your life and they will all give you a part of what you need, but there is no one perfect person out there who perfectly gives you exactly what you want. We need multiple people and they should all be valued by you. Love is not limited.

[cyarsk52-20]

[mimi-0007]